


Saving Grace

by Acid_Rabbit



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, M/M, Modern AU, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acid_Rabbit/pseuds/Acid_Rabbit
Summary: It was telling of Valiant to reappear just when Merlin had made up his mind that he was happy and safe.
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Valiant
Comments: 19
Kudos: 242





	Saving Grace

Merlin had turned around at the tinkling of the bell over the door, a soft smile playing about his lips-

And spied the biggest disturbance of his life standing in the middle of his coffee shop. Merlin’s face left no room for speculation on how disgusted he felt about that. His face had never had an inside voice, after all. 

Valiant was stood, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his ridiculously form fitting jeans, the sleeves of his pressed dark blue dress shirt rolled up to reveal firm forearms. He was artfully rugged as always. Merlin had thought him a wet dream the first time he’d seen him. The first time he’d been held in those solid arms…been kissed by him…Merlin had rocketed out of the stratosphere. Those dark eyes set in that chiseled face had always held him rooted to the spot. The way Val focused on him as though he were the only being in the world. It had been a heady feeling. 

Over time…over time that feeling had warped, distorted. He hadn’t been special.

He’d been prey.

Just like now.

Val’s features narrowed, a flash in his eyes that Merlin recognized and some primal part of his brain rippled and remembered. Merlin’s lip that had curled of its own volition now flattened and formed a line. The muscles in his face smoothed. Can’t let him see. Can never let him see what he really felt. He clutched at the counter in front of him, absurdly, pathetically grateful for the solid wooden surface standing between them. He braced against it and hoped for all the world that the barrier wouldn’t be needed. Would Val really try something here though? Out in the open? Where his sins would be counted and held against him in the public eye? 

“Merlin! I was hoping you’d be here today.” And just like that, Val’s eyes were wide in the joy of seeing him, his tone one of relief that he had managed to somehow magically run into him. Like nothing had ever happened.

“Val.” his tongue wouldn’t unstick from the roof of his mouth to say more. And of course he was here today. Valiant knew he worked the night shift. After all, it was the reason he bought the place and renamed it Insomniacs. He’d worked insane hours to redesign it as an all night coffee shop with a warm atmosphere from the seedy little convenient store it had been. It was quaint and clean now, with a vintage feel. High on peace, low on pretension. He was always here at night.

Val made a show of looking about, gaze turned shrewd and flinty, sweeping over the few patrons they had at 1:00am. All regulars at this point. The frazzled uni student, Elena, her nose buried so deep in her laptop, that she wouldn’t be aware of an air raid. There was the older Executive, Olaf, absorbed with his herbology books; desperate to avoid going home to his barely legal-aged bride whom he’d realized only after their marriage that he couldn’t even hope to keep up with, in or out of bed. His gaze skirting over Finna, her gnarled fingers wrapped around knitting needles that she used with deft precision as she stared out the single large window to the dim lamp-lit street beyond. Certainly no threats there.

And that left Arthur.

Arthur who was sat at his usual little round table in the far corner, just a wee bit off from the side of the counter, couched in soft shadows, with a view of the whole place. Arthur who was staring into the depths of the little journal he always carried with him, other hand absently playing with the spoon in his coffee, swirling it about with little attention.

Merlin knew better. 

Arthur paid attention to everything. Merlin didn’t think he could help it.

Valiant sure as hell noticed him. Remembered him. 

Merlin remembered their fights over the quiet man. Like anything, they started off small. Val had told him that his suspicious nature was the result of previous partners cheating on him. Merlin understood that he was insecure in that respect, though a little hurt that Val might think that of him.

“He always sits close to the counter, don’t you think? Close to you.”  
“He likes to be able to see the whole place, Val. That’s all. We barely speak.”  
“But you do speak.” 

Val had the knack of jumping on the smallest word, the most innocent inference and marking it as suspect. He learned to guard his words. He hadn’t wanted his boyfriend to think badly of him, or to hurt Val’s feelings. He’d never been one to play games after all.

“He stares at you.”  
“That’s ridiculous. He does not.”  
“How do you know. Are you watching him? Do you like to look at him?”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“You’re with me, Merlin. Only me. Remember that.”  
“How could I forget?”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
“Val, please, let go.”

The apologies. The tears. The excuses. And Merlin lapped them all up, one by one. Until he even thought they were good enough to cover up the bruises. 

But Arthur…Arthur noticed everything.

Valiant stared at Arthur, his lips twisting in a cruel parody of a smile, his head turned slow and deliberate until his eyes were once again focused on Merlin. As though he had caught Merlin out. As though Merlin were still his.

Merlin took a deep breath. No more. He’d taken it and taken it until he hadn’t even recognized himself. He reminded himself that this was a public place. Val wouldn’t try anything here. Not where people could see. Not where he could be exposed for the coward he was. Merlin stood up straighter, posturing a bit, he supposed, but he wasn’t going to let the bastard see how rattled his mere presence made him.

“I guess some things never change.” Val sneered.

Merlin stared at him, eyes hard. A maw of anger opening in the depths of him. How he wished there had been something between he and Arthur. But there hadn’t been. Merlin would never cheat in the first place. And Arthur, well, Arthur had demons of his own to fight. 

“What do you want, Val?” he was stupidly proud of the granite in his voice.

Val sighed and sort of wilted a bit. One large square hand rubbed over his short hair, gaze fixed on the ground like a recalant schoolboy. Contrite. Merlin felt a strange sort of wrong-footedness. Valiant was supposed to rage and rail so Merlin could throw him out, not go all docile and limp on him.

“Look, I’m not here to try anything.” he looked around the room to emphasize the fact that it wasn’t private, his gaze skimming Arthur in particular, who still did not look up from his book. He walked slowly to the counter. Merlin stood up straight and crossed his arms over this chest. Val stopped, hands raised in supplication. “I just want to talk.” he lowered his voice as though imparting a secret, “I’ve been seeing someone. A therapist just like you asked. I-”

There was an indelicate snort from Arthur’s corner. They both snapped their heads in his direction, but he was simply perusing his notebook as though he hadn’t realized what he’d done. Which was complete bullshit. Merlin couldn’t help the fond smile that overtook his mouth, nor the warmth that enveloped and swelled his chest. Arthur was sat hunched over the table, boneless and at ease. Such an enormous contrast to the rigidity he’d held himself even a few months ago. His black T-shirt over his long sleeved grey henley was clean and wrinkle free. His jeans loose, but in good repair. His ever present boots were worn and told stories of deserts and battles that their owner never would. But they too were as clean as they were ever going to be.

It had been Arthur’s eyes, all those months ago, that had drawn Merlin in and held him there. Wild and watching. Tracking everyone, every little movement, dissecting each sound. But not to judge or attack. But calculating strengths and defenses. And when that penetrating gaze landed on him, Merlin felt the other man’s pain like a punch to the gut.

He’d brought him a coffee he hadn’t asked for and drowned in the haunted echoes of Arthur’s unblinking eyes. He felt a strange kinship then. Arthur had looked as broken as Merlin was himself beginning to feel. Arthur had muttered his thanks in a haze, his manners on autopilot and Merlin knew then and there that he was going to do everything he could to remind the brittle man before him that he was indeed, a human being, and worthy of notice. So Merlin kept making small talk and bringing him free coffee under the guise of asking him to be the guinea pig for new blends he was trying. The poor man could have floated away by the end of the night. And all he did was stare at the door, mind lost far beyond the little coffee house. 

His clothes looked like they’d come from a bin, torn and dirty, his boots caked with dried mud. Sleeping rough, obviously. He’d come in three consecutive nights in a row and each night Merlin had shoved more coffee and pastries in front of him. The man barely ate the confections, but he drank the coffee with absent minded repetition. He rarely spoke, but said ‘thank you’ as by rote every time something was set before him. Merlin wasn’t sure the man even knew where he was half the time. But on the fourth night, he was a no show. And the fifth and the sixth. So when he hobbled in on the seventh looking as though he’d been on the wrong end of a brawl, a furious panic had come over Merlin that compelled him to do more than push coffee.

Merlin was chatting with Gwen as she counted her drawer for the start of her day when he spied the quiet man from the corner get up and walk to the door. He couldn’t just let him leave without saying something. Without doing something.

“Excuse me, Sir? Sir!”

The man turned smartly on his heel, eyes wild for barest second, then hooded when his gaze locked onto Merlin, his stance straight and taunt, as though expecting a confrontation. Spying the split lip and scraped knuckles, Merlin wasn’t surprised. 

“Yes?” sharp, rough.

Merlin lowered his voice so as not to embarrass the man as the room filled with morning patrons.

“Look, I know it’s not much, but please, take this.” he held out a several notes, well, more than a few. In fact it was the sum of his tips for the night and all he had on him presently.

The man glanced at the bills, and then graced him with an odd look. “I really can’t. Thank you but-”

“Please. It isn’t polite to refuse after all.” and Merlin grinned. The man huffed, but there was the hint of something soft playing behind the shuttered gaze. 

“Alright. For the sake of good manners.” his voice was softer. Gently, he took the cash and pocketed it, his ice blue eyes never leaving Merlin’s face. The intensity should have put him on his guard. Val often looked at him with the same magnitude. Like he was trying to find fault, pry out the lie. But this. This was an all together different look. As though he had been orbiting in the man’s periphery, barely perceivable as human, no matter how many coffees had been forced down his throat. Now, however, standing in the middle of the room, the man was suddenly and completely aware of him and found him worthy of further scrutiny. It should have been unnerving. 

It wasn’t. 

“And I know your business is personal and I don’t, I won’t pry, but I have a friend, Lance DuLuc, he runs a shelter three blocks down. I mean, if you need it.”

The man canted his head and opened his mouth to interject, but Merlin was faster.

“Don’t. Just don’t. There’s no shame in asking for help. Or accepting a bed til you get on your feet. And you’ll come back here if you can’t sleep at night. Or during the day.”

The man’s eyebrow quirked up. “I will?”

Merlin bobbed his head. “Yes. You will. You’ll earn your keep by trying out all our new flavors, that includes the bakery stuff, by the way, and you’ll not complain about it or I’ll sick Gwen on you and then she’ll pout and Lance will definitely not like that-”

“Lance DuLuc.” the man drew the name out, “The shelter guy.” 

“Yes, Gwen’s fiancee. They’re adorable but tooth-rotting. So you’ll go see Lance today, tell him I sent you and then you’ll come back tonight.”

“Is that an order?”

Merlin nodded decisively. “Absolutely. From your barista.”

The man barked out a laugh and he looked just as surprised as Merlin at the outburst. But the little smile remained and Merlin thought it made him, beneath the grime and the bruises, well…beautiful.

“Alright then, Barista. How could I refuse a direct order?” he inclined his head, as though bowing and walked out the door.

And when Merlin came in that night, the man was already seated at his corner table. Merlin was just so damned relieved to see him, that he grinned toothily. The man looked up and though it was small, smiled back at him. It was enough to make Merlin forget that Valiant was still standing behind him, having been insisting on dropping him off every night for work.

The next night, Merlin made sure to wait until Val had left before acknowledging the other man, who had introduced himself as Arthur only. Arthur was staring off again, but this time, he held a little brown leather notebook, his thumb flipping through the pages at the corner. He glanced at Merlin and nodded, and was becoming custom, said nothing.

When Merlin handed him the first scone and said, “We added ghost peppers, let me know what you think.” Arthur’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. Merlin laughed. “Sorry, just kidding. Blueberry with a lemon glaze. But it’s a new recipe so let me know if it passes.” 

Arthur had sagged in relief, his gaze straying from Merlin’s eyes to his neck. His eyes narrowed, but said nothing. Merlin pretended not to notice, but once in the back, made sure to pull his turtleneck collar higher. Val’s temper was getting worse. His throat wasn’t as raw as it had been this morning, but it still hurt. He was, and it was ridiculously contradictory, but there was a shaft of disappointment searing through him at Arthur’s casual dismissal of it. He shook his head. He’d worn the high collar for the express purpose of not drawing attention. Valiant was right, he really was stupid.

“Lance told me it helped him to write things down.” Arthur had muttered to him three weeks later, his eyes never leaving the little book. He had said little in the weeks he’d been coming in, and only always in reply to something. He sounded quite posh, to be honest.

Merlin had just been setting a plain black coffee in front of him after finding out the man, in fact, loathed sugar in his coffee, when Arthur had blurted out the statement. Merlin had gaped like a landed fish for long enough to see Arthur’s shoulders twitch. It dawned on Merlin then that Arthur was nervous. Actually nervous about telling Merlin, as though his opinion mattered. It was…a revelation. Arthur hadn’t struck him as a man who would care what others thought. He was quiet, his serious facade hiding a slowly emerging subtle, but dry humor that Merlin only noticed by Arthur’s reaction to conversations taking place around him. He walked straight and tall. His steps were measured, every movement precise. His clothes still looked as though he wrestled bears in the woods for fun, but there was not one hint whatsoever that even in the state he was in that he was not the most capable man in the room. There was no arrogance. He wasn’t cocky or boastful. The near feral bearing that he’d had those first days had faded. But nervous? No, never that. Until now. 

Merlin had sat then, placing them both on the same level, hoping his features were open, encouraging. Arthur had glanced up at him, his gaze flicking away to the counter, back to him and then down at the book again.

“Won’t you get in trouble for sitting down on the job?”

“Nope.”

Arthur looked at him with a skeptical eye. Merlin swallowed and felt his shoulders hunch inward. He took a breath and reminded himself that this wasn’t Val. He didn’t have anything to hide. He didn’t have to worry about what might set Arthur off. He’d never so much as raised his voice, let alone his hand. A shrewd glint shown in Arthur’s eyes then, but Merlin marched over it, all toothy smile and cheery countenance.

“I bought this place for the express purpose of being able to do whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased. And I so happen to please myself a seat just now.”

Arthur’s usually stoic expression opened in surprise and well, Merlin was probably being a bit conceded, but Arthur seemed a bit impressed too as he glanced around the place with a new awareness. Merlin’s chest swelled at bit at that even as it tripped in nervous anticipation of Arthur’s approval. He was proud of what he’d accomplished. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of calling himself an actual business owner, as silly as he knew it sounded. And it did sound stupid, now that he thought about it. And boastful. 

“I mean, I know it’s not much. It’s not like I even bought it on my own. My great-uncle passed away and left me quite a bit. I had a little savings and combined I bought it.” He shrugged, and looked down at the scratches on the tabletop. He’d bought the little round tables from an old pub in his hometown. They were worn and uneven, but he’d loved their character. Looking at them now, Arthur scrutinizing him from the other side, they felt cheap and inadequate.

“You’re wrong.”

Merlin’s stomach cramped at the gruff tone. He nodded and shuffled his feet under him to stand. The barest of touches grazed the side of hand. Startled, he looked up to see Arthur resting the tips of his fingers just beside Merlin’s, his blue eyes intent and full of life in a way Merlin hadn’t seen.

“You’re wrong, Merlin. This place, you, what you’ve done. Don’t doubt yourself. Or your accomplishments. I know what a shit-hole this place was before you bought it.”

“You do? I mean, I guess I just didn’t think. You’re from London, then? I mean, yeah, of course you are. Sorry, everyone hates it when I ramble.” he smiled with self-depreciation, but Arthur didn’t smile back. Merlin was used to it, but this intense scrutiny was new. The shadows always in Arthur’s eyes were haunting the edges now, held back by the emergence of Arthur himself. Merlin felt that perhaps for the first time, Arthur, the man he’d been before whatever hell he’d gone through, was looking out at him now.

“No they don’t. You don’t ramble. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. Not to me. And not to anyone who truly cares about you.”

Merlin couldn’t breathe. His hands were cold. His eyes were dry and wide and did Arthur know? Did Arthur know about Valiant? It didn’t matter. It was between him and his boyfriend. And Val cared about him. Of course he did. He loved him. He just had problems. But they were working on them. They were. How dare Arthur? Fuck him. He had no right to judge them. To stick his nose there. It wasn’t like he could understand. He didn’t even know Val. Hell, he barely knew him.

“What the hell are you saying?” Merlin snatched his hand away and sat stiffly back in the chair, arms crossed tight across his chest. His fingers curled and clutched at the fabric of his shirt under his arms.

Arthur stared at him a heartbeat more before he too sat back, his posture as rigid as it always was, but his usually stone face was drawn in frustrated resignation. He shook his head and Merlin noticed absently that his hair had grown a bit, not shaggy, but definitely longer from the high and tight style he’d had the first time he’d seen him.

“I’m not saying anything. You don’t want to hear it. Fine. Acknowledged. So I’ll say this instead. This place- you, Merlin, saved my life.”

Merlin’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “It’s just a coffee house, mate. I know people joke about coffee being a life-saver but-”

“You’re trying to deflect and make a joke. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I’m serious.” Arthur looked down then, his hands gripping the little journal as a lifeline. Merlin stilled.

“I’m sorry. Go on,” he leaned forward slow, as not to spook the other man. A curl a shame filtered up through his gut. Arthur had been trying to tell him something from the moment he sat down and instead of listening, Merlin had been an utter prat. Arthur nodded, but didn’t, perhaps couldn’t, look up.

“I- when I left-” he shook his head, lips turned down, a frustrated growl working up his throat. He inhaled deeply, determined, lifted his head and pierced Merlin to his bones, “I worked for my father’s company since I was sixteen. Started from the bottom up. I mopped floors, cleaned toilets, sorted mail. Assisted sales, Development, Marketing, if it was part of the company, I did it. I know his business inside and out. Then I turned twenty and I don’t know, I felt trapped. I could do the work, but I hated it. My sister, the harpy,” here he smiled but it fell from his lips as quickly as it had appeared, “she thrived on the work. Loved it in a way I just couldn’t. So I left. Looked for something that meant something to me. That’s when I enlisted.” he paused and Merlin knew he was waiting to see Merlin’s reaction. It didn’t surprise him. Arthur just had that kind of bearing. Merlin simply nodded for him to continue. 

Arthur’s shoulders sagged just a fraction. “I loved it. I excelled. Moved up. Made it in SAS. That’s where the real fun is.” He grinned a crooked smile and his eyes lit up and Merlin melted then and there. “Had some great mates…” as his words trailed off, so did his smile, and his gaze. He thumbed through the journal, focus on the mysterious words he’d jotted down there in block letters. “But this last time out. I lost…” he shook his head, and even bowed, Merlin could see the sheen in his eyes.

He couldn’t help himself anymore. Merlin reached out and laid a hand carefully over Arthur’s wrist. Arthur looked up, expression wrenched and bleeding.

“It’s okay, Arthur. You don’t have to talk about it.” 

Arthur looked at Merlin’s hand and nodded.

“It’s not about whether I want to or not. Lance hooked me up with a counselor at the shelter but I couldn’t- I tried, but the words wouldn’t come. So Lance gave me the notebook. You know he was a battlefield medic, right? Said writing it all down helped when he couldn’t verbalize it. So yeah, it’s helped.”

“I’m glad. Arthur I can’t begin to tell you how glad I am. But, and you don’t have to say anything, but if you lived in London, why did you go to the shelter? Wouldn’t your family take you in?”

Arthur cleared his throat and shook his head. “They don’t know I’m back.”

“What? But Arthur… You’ve been coming here for months! I mean, did they- was there a falling out when you left your father’s company?”

“Oh he was mad alright. Morgana made me leave the house before he had a coronary. I thought, that was that. I left for Basic without a word. Didn’t hear from them at all. And then when my name was called at graduation, I hear this screech from the back and there they are, my sister whooping like a banshee and my father clapping like a loon beside her.” he smiled and Merlin squeezed his wrist. Arthur reached over and placed his hand on Merlin’s and nodded to the watch on his wrist. “My grandfather was a soldier in World War II. He gave my father his watch when he graduated. So my father gave it to me when I graduated. Told me he was proud of me.”

“That’s beautiful.” How he could breathe with Arthur’s warm palm draped over his hand, he had no idea. When was the last time Val had been so tender? He had been, at one time, hadn’t he? 

“So if there’s no bad feelings between you, why are you living at the shelter?”

“I work there too ya know. I thought Lance would have told you. I rent the back room for a pittance and help around the place during the day. I don’t exactly need the money.”

“He wouldn’t. He doesn’t discuss the people at the shelter. Guess he figured you’d tell me if you wanted. Really, the man’s practically a saint.” 

“Hmm.” In that little sound, Merlin knew Arthur’s estimation of Lance’s character had grown. 

Arthur sighed, “I just couldn’t. Go home I mean. I was standing outside my sister’s ridiculously expensive apartment building, staring up at the windows. People were passing me on the street, laughing, talking, pushing each other around like no one had a care in the world. And I kept thinking about how happy she would be. She’s loud and larger than life and how my father would want to throw a welcome home party and I was on the elevator with no memory of walking into the building, let alone getting on. People were giving me a wide berth. I thought maybe it was because I was in uniform, you know, fresh off the transport. We got to her floor. There’s a mirror, a huge fucking mirror on the opposite wall of the elevator and the doors open and there it is and I swear to God, Merlin, I didn’t recognize the guy standing there. I’ve never disassociated in my life, but for three seconds I honest to God didn’t realize I was staring at my reflection. I just, I panicked. I couldn’t let Morgana, or God forbid, my father see me like that. So I left. Lived out of my gear. Only had two changes of civies on me. Rented a locker for my uniforms and just slept wherever. I don’t, can’t, sleep at night. An hour here, fifteen minutes there during the day. So I walk. I happened to walk past this place.”

“I’m glad.” he rasped, unable to articulate more.

“So I’m not exaggerating when I say that you saved my life, Merlin. You saw me, when everyone else couldn’t run away fast enough. I was…in bad place. When you bullied me about the shelter, I thought, what the hell? But Lance took one look at me and gave me something to do. Mopping floors, serving food. It was a purpose. Something small. After a few weeks, I realized I was looking forward to coming here at night. I needed that. I needed your too sweet coffee and insane confections.”  
He turned Merlin’s hand over and held it, his eyes bright and brilliant and Merlin could not fucking breathe. “I needed you.” he held up his other hand to forestall whatever he saw on Merlin’s face. 

“I know you have a boyfriend. I swear I’m not trying to interfere. I think you know what I think of him. And that’s all I’ll say. I just wanted you to know what you’ve done for me. That’s all.”

Merlin swallowed, but could find nothing to say. What could he possibly say to that? Instead he smiled, a watery, tremulous smile and after a moment, rose up and went about his work. And for the first time in months, his heart was filled with something so much more than worry or pain. The feeling of uselessness pushed back.

At dawn, he went home.

And found out that Valiant had stopped by and seen him sitting in the corner, holding Arthur’s hand.

He didn’t go back to work for two weeks. It took the worst of the bruising and sprains that long to heal.

Arthur, said nothing at first. He didn’t need too. The look of raw fury that thundered over his normally shuttered features was enough for Merlin to know that Arthur knew exactly why he’d been absent. It was enough for the shame to engulf him in waves until there was a bare ember of him left. He went about the shift. Ignored Finna’s pitying gaze; threw away the college student’s pamphlet on the signs of an abusive relationship; scowled right back at the Executive’s judging sneer. But Arthur, Arthur he could barely look at. Arthur, who had been to a warzone, who had lost friends…Arthur who would never let another person lay a hand on him without retribution…oh what Arthur must think of him. For the first time he truly acknowledged what was happening. A great and endless pit had opened beneath him and he’d been falling and falling for ages and hadn’t even realized it. His hands shook. He couldn’t catch his breath. He was crashing apart, cell by cell. 

“...that’s it. That’s good. Just breathe, Merlin. Breathe for me. You’re fine. Just breathe.”

“Wha-” he inhaled deeply, shuddering. His gaze shot wildly around the room. He was in the kitchen, seated on an overturned milk crate, Arthur crouched before him, those big warm hands resting on Merlin’s knees.

“There you are. You’re alright. Panic attack. You with me now?”

“Um, yeah, yes. I think. I don’t have panic attacks.”

“Well, you just did.”

“Right. I have to get back at it.” his insides were jittering, his heart flying apart. He was making a latte, he had to finish that, then check the cooler, and stock the paper towels in the toilet and refill the napkins and-

“Not right now you won’t.”

“Huh?”

Arthur’s lips pressed together. “All your tasks. You’re going to sit here and recover. I’ll watch the til and make sure no one robs you blind. I can even make a normal coffee if needed, though no one gets anything frufru.”

“Frufru?” a ghost of a smile brushed his lips.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Technical term for bullshit disguising itself as coffee.”

Merlin’s smile widened, but so did his awareness of the situation. He had completely lost it in his own shop, in front of patrons. In front of Arthur. Heat scorched up his neck, warming his cheeks and ears.

“I can’t believe I freaked out. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Do not, Merlin. Do not apologize. You’ve had a traumatic event, which by my estimation is not the first. It’s finally catching up with you and manifesting as a panic attack. I’ve seen men fight through the most harrowing shit believable, not bat an eye, keep their heads on as cool as can be. It’s only after when they felt safe that their bodies allowed them to react. There’s no shame in it.”

“But I’m not a soldier.” he protested, hating how small his voice sounded.

Arthur took both of his chilled hands in his, his earnest blue eyes capturing Merlin in that moment.

“No, but you’ve been in a battle, haven’t you. You’re still there.”

Merlin tried to tug his hands back, but Arthur held fast. Merlin sagged on the crate, his eyes stinging.

“Arthur…” a plea, a prayer…he didn’t know what he was asking. He didn’t know anything anymore.

“Merlin, someone once told me, there is a time to fight, and then there is a time to quit the battlefield. Isn’t it your time?”

The first sob bubbled out his throat so unexpectedly that he wrenched his hands away to cover his mouth. Only they couldn’t be contained. His whole being shook with the pain and the shame and the anger and God-awful unfairness of it all. Strong arms wrapped around his back and gentle hands pulled him against a solid mass. He buried his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck and wept until there was nothing left to give.

The next day, while Valiant was at work; the feel of Arthur’s arms still seared into his skin; while his courage was still strong, and his fear numb, Merlin packed his bag. It was a shock to realize that most the things he’d brought to the apartment had been replaced over time. The couch was too old. That chair didn’t go with the new couch. His dishes were too fancy. Those paintings were ridiculous. Until Merlin stopped buying new things. Stopped placing bits and pieces of himself on display in the living room. In the kitchen. In the home at all. This hadn’t been his home for a long time. It was strange how he hadn’t even noticed. 

He stayed with his friend Will, whom Valiant didn’t know about. Will had just ended a rather lucrative career as an MMA fighter in America and was someone Merlin didn’t worry about holding his own should Val decide to come round and start trouble. Will was desperately hoping he would.

Merlin went about his night at Insomniacs, his heart jumping anytime the bell rang. But Arthur was there in his little corner, occasionally adding entries to his journal, and snickering at Merlin’s odd comment or two. He was even wearing new clothes which Merlin knew was related to his slow, but improving, mental health. True, they were always of the T-shirt and jeans nature, with the now cleaned and every present tan combat boots, but it was an improvement to be sure. His hair was longer now, but neatly trimmed on the sides and longish on top and stylishly messy. Merlin’s fingers itched to run themselves through that mop. Realistically, he wondered if he’d ever be ready for anything real. Though for Arthur, he would sure as hell try.

Val ranted and raved, apologized over texts, sent flowers, threatened, cajoled, until Merlin blocked him. And after a few more attempts at contact…nothing. That, more than anything scared the shit out of him. 

But then the days went by and life got back to what was now deemed normal.

It was telling of Valiant to reappear just when Merlin had made up his mind that he was happy and safe.

Looking back at Valiant now, Merlin felt a strength well up within him. And desire. A desire more determined than any force in the world to see Valiant out of his life once and for all. 

“You can have your say. And then you leave. Final. Take it or leave it.” Stone and steel and Val was looking at him with a new expression. Recalculating what he knew of Merlin, what he thought he knew. He glanced at Arthur once more, but the blonde man’s head was still down. Satisfied, Valiant nodded to Merlin. 

Merlin stepped to the swinging door that led to the kitchen and jerked his chin, indicating that Val should step through. Valiant smirked in Arthur’s direction as he passed by Merlin and through the door.

Merlin looked over. Arthur was sat straight, legs turned to the side as though he were ready to leap up at a moment’s notice. His bright eyes, sharp and alert and watching Merlin, features serious. But he waited. Waited for Merlin’s decision. Merlin nodded, grateful just to know Arthur was there, but waved him back. He needed to see this through on his own. Arthur nodded, but otherwise remained motionless.

Merlin took a deep breath and slid through the swinging door. Valiant was walking up the left side of the long table, large fingers grazing over the surface, tracing the line of a baking sheet, tapping over a bag of whole Costa Rican beans. Merlin itched to slap his hand with the big wooden spoon. Val didn’t deserve to touch his things, to wander his kitchen.

“So I’m here. What did you want to say?”

Val glanced up, hooded eyes straying to him and away to racks of pans hung along the wall. He rounded the table and began down the right side, slow and rambling. He shrugged.

“I’ve missed you.”

Merlin scoffed. “I’ll bet. Missed someone cooking for you? Cleaning up after you? Doing your laundry? You don’t need a boyfriend, Val. You need a maid.”

“Is that what you think? That I was only with you for what you could do for me?”

“Wasn’t it?” A bold, reckless surge roared over Merlin. Damn but it felt good. Heady and wild and amazing and he didn’t care. Not anymore.

“Merlin-”

“No. You know what? Just no.” Merlin stalked forward to stand toe to toe with him. And suddenly Valiant wasn’t that tall. How small he was now. Now that Merlin saw him for what he was. What he had always been. “No, Valiant.”

Valiant sneered, “No what?”

“You’re not going to talk your way out of anything. You put me through hell. Months, Valiant. Months I stayed because I loved you. Because I thought you loved me. I put up with your constant criticisms. How I was never good enough. Or how stupid you said I was. I let you disappear me, Val. For fuck’s sake!” he waved his hand at the wall, “I nearly sold this place because you were on me and on me about how my work was killing our relationship and how it took time away from you- YOU, Val, not us, your word.” Merlin stomped away, hands in his hair in frustration, before waving them at Val, “If it wasn’t for this place, we could never have lived in such a posh flat! If it wasn’t for…”

And that’s when it hit him with the force of a proverbial gale.

Valiant was stood solid and still, face blotchy, red and seething. A magician whose tricks have been discovered.

Merlin threw his head back and laughed, eyes wide as he held that narrowed, vicious gaze.

“That’s what this- My God, even now. You were right about one thing, Val, I really am stupid.”

“Why would you say that, Merlin.” but Valiant knew. Oh he already knew. His tone was questioning, but in his eyes…the chips and granite of his eyes dared Merlin to say it. Promised retribution if he dared.

But it didn’t matter.

“I see you now, Valiant. I see that you can’t afford the flat without me, can you? You thought you could. You even believed your own bullshit about how your job was so much more important than mine, that you made more money. Doesn’t matter how much you make when you piss it all away at the races, does it?” Merlin took a step forward, “Let me guess, the money’s all dried up and no one else will put up with you. Poor lamb.”

“You need to shut your gob, right the fuck now, Merlin.” each word bit out. Each word still and waiting in the tall grass. A jolt of warning shot through the abandonment of reason for a second. For a second he was cowering against the bathroom counter, Valiant pushing his weight into the small space. He was sitting in a restaurant, Valiant’s fingers digging into his thigh in warning under the table as he leaned in, whispering in that tone.

Merlin stilled, his foot sliding back, spine taut, and Val’s lip quirked up, seeing the victory and no. Not one more fucking time.

“No.”

Valiant stepped closer. “What did you just say?”

Merlin breathed deep. He thought of his mother, so far away, how desperate she was for him to be happy. He thought of Lance who always had a kind word for him. Of sweet Gwen who teased and hugged and loved him. Of gruff, tough, Will who opened his home without hesitation. And Arthur.

He thought of Arthur who had crawled over battlefields and watched his friends die and he was out there at his little, imperfect table because Merlin had chosen to see him, to help him. And he didn’t know how to articulate what that meant. What Arthur meant. Only that there were people who cared about him. And not one of them was Valiant. 

“I’m not your meal ticket anymore, Val. You used me. That’s what you do. You use people up and throw them away. But not this time. This time it’s my choice to leave you. Don’t ever come back here again.”

Merlin turned, his hand stretched out to push the door open.

His fingertips skimmed the surface.

A force slammed down on his shoulder, fingers hooked over his collarbone, dragging him back, throwing him backwards into the heavy oak table. His cry choked short as Valiant jammed his fingers against Merlin’s throat. Val’s face was red and swollen in rage, his lips spitting out abuse. Merlin’s feet slid over the floor, couldn’t get purchase, his hands wrapped around Val’s wrist, air burning in his lungs. He let go one hand and raked his nails across Valiant’s face, his eyes. Val yelled, flinging Merlin away from him into the wall. Merlin slid down, coughing, scrambling to gain his feet, falling back onto his butt instead. 

His vision was blurry, it was hard to see from the floor, but the door was swinging wild on its hinges. Pans and whisks were falling on the opposite side of the table. There seemed to be more feet than Merlin’s terrible maths skills could account for as well.

“Merlin! Merlin, you okay there?”

Huh? 

“Arth- arthur?” rough, scratchy but Arthur heard him all the same.

“Yeah, you need help?” 

Merlin planted hands and knees on the floor, huffed in as deep a breath as he could and levered himself up, grabbing the edge of the table and peering over it. Coming face to face with Valiant. Merlin’s eyes felt huge in their sockets. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Val’s face mashed into a table quite like that before.

And standing above Valiant, not even breathing heavy, was Arthur. Bright and shining, glorious Arthur. Whose brow was raised in a, ‘are you okay, why the hell are you still on the floor’, kind of way.

Merlin scrambled up the rest of the way, tenderly feeling his throat.

“Sorry if I interrupted you. But I thought it terribly unfair that you have all the fun.”

Merlin blinked. Arthur smirked, his one crooked tooth gave him a boyish aire. 

“You really are posh, aren’t you?” he blurted out. 

“Really, Merlin?”

Arthur nodded to the wriggling mound of human being under his hold.

“Oh right, sorry. I mean, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Now,” he leaned down and by the grunt that escaped Valiant’s lungs, Merlin could guess that Arthur was pressing down a bit harder. “I could go on and on about asking you how it feels to be on the receiving end of this. I could rail at you for being in general, just a spectacular failure of a human being. Or,” and here Arthur leaned down closer, his voice deepened. His features became other and Valiant became still. “Or I could remind you that I’ve dedicated the last fifteen years of my life to protecting people with skills I’ve honed and acquired to absolute perfection-”

“You don’t fucking scare me you asshole,” Valiant growled. Merlin’s heart was hammering out of his ribcage. Val had to see how serious Arthur was. How dangerous.

Arthur huffed a laugh. “No. No I don’t suppose you’re smart enough to know when you should quit. But then, I reckon you’re assuming that I won’t cross a line because I was a soldier.” To Merlin’s shock and somewhat bitter disappointment, Arthur stepped back several paces, releasing Valiant. 

The other man sprang up from the table and cracked his neck, straightened his shirt.

“Thought so.” he sneered. Arthur offered a small, serene smile. He motioned in a gentlemanly way to the door. 

Valiant looked at him, then over to Merlin, who was stood frozen to the spot. Val winked at him, that smug smile pulling at his lips. “See you around Sweetheart.”

Merlin sucked in a breath.

Val walked past Arthur.

Arthur moved faster than anyone Merlin had ever seen. His hands shot out like vipers, puling Valiant backwards, Arthur’s booted foot kicking his opponent’s feet out from under him and Val was on his knees in seconds, one arm twisted behind his back, his other desperately pulling at Arthur’s arm slung around his neck.

“Now there’s where you went too far.” Arthur chided. Merlin stepped forward. Val’s face was slowly turning purple. He didn’t like the guy, but he didn’t want to see him dead. Even more, he didn’t want Arthur arrested for it. Arthur saw his approach and minutely shook his head. Merlin stopped, but his insides were vibrating. Arthur looked back to Valiant.

“I was content to let you walk out of here. Merlin got to say what he needed to say to you. That could have been that. But no, you just can’t leave well enough alone can you?”

Valiant was gurgling. 

“Um, Arthur? I think you need to let him breathe, just a little.”

Arthur huffed in disappointment. “As you wish,” and released his hold just enough that Valiant sucked in a deep, deep breath.

“You see, Val, may I call you Val? You see Val, Merlin here is a very dear friend of mine. I don’t have too many of them left. Having your brothers in arms blown to bits around you has a negative effect on one’s mental health, that is, according to my therapist. You know all about that though, don’t you? Seeing as how you’re going to one to manage your anger and all, right? So you know how easy it is to snap. How you can just be minding your own business one minute and then flying into a murderous rage the next? Why, you can barely control yourself. You know all about that, don’t you Val? Isn’t that your excuse?”

“You…win…” Valiant wheezed, pained tears flushing down his mottled cheeks. 

“Of course I do,” Arthur said imperiously. “But I think it’s Merlin you need to promise to leave alone. Go on.” he twisted Valiant’s arm higher for motivation.

“Okay, okay! Fucking hell!” Val looked at Merlin and for the first time it was without malice or falsehood. “I’m sorry alright! I won’t come round again!” he gasped in pain and added, “I promise!”

Merlin watched him and felt…nothing. There was nothing. No anger. No fear. What was there possibly to fear? Valiant was a leech. A rabid dog. And no longer his problem.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked quietly. Merlin looked at Arthur and understood with a feeling of absolute awe that Arthur was waiting on his verdict. He would follow his lead, no matter what, trusting Merlin’s own judgement, just as he’d trusted Merlin to handle the situation until he was absolutely needed. It was a bit staggering.

“Let him go.” Merlin looked straight into Valiant’s eyes, “He’s a coward. And not worth any more of our time.”

Valiant watched him, something in his eyes that Merlin couldn’t define. Something full of pitiful spite. But more than that, defeat.

“You’re fortunate Merlin has a forgiving nature.” Arthur pulled Val’s arm up again, “because I don’t.” he shoved the other man to the floor. Val scrambled up and raced out the door without a backwards glance.

Arthur rolled his long sleeves neatly back into place “Well, I think that’s that. I truly am sorry for barging in here, but I couldn’t just stand out there and-oof!”

Merlin wrapped himself around Arthur like an octopus. Arthur’s arms came up haltingly and slung loose around him. He was instantly aware of what an idiotic thing he’d just done.

“I’m sorry, I just, Val lost it and you fought for me and it was just a reaction, and sorry,” he stepped back only to be reeled back in and pressed firmly against a very solid chest, their bodies fitting against each other perfectly.

“I hope you don’t really mean that. I’d be terribly disappointed.”

“Well,” Merlin breathed, “I wouldn’t want to do that.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened, all teasing sliding away, “I’m the one that’s sorry, if this is too much. Too soon. I like you, Merlin. More than like you. But if you’re not ready for a relationship. Then that’s that. I’ll follow your lead.”

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Merlin searched his eyes, his features serious, and yet behind the open gaze, hope and promise.

“One day at a time then?”

Arthur sagged in his arms, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder for just a moment.

He raised his head and smiled, “One day at a time.”

Three Months Later

“Are you going to peel your fingers off the wheel or shall I?”

Arthur didn’t spare him a glance from his hunched position over the steering wheel. Merlin sighed, mentally berating himself for his failed humor. He reached over and gently laid his hand over Arthur’s white knuckled grip. Arthur jumped, snapping his gaze from the stately mansion in front of them to watching Merlin with wild eyes. It was so reminiscent of the first time they met that Merlin’s heart swelled with pain.

“Hey, it’s alright, Love. I’m here. We don’t have to do this today. They’ll understand.” his tone soft, all the love he felt filling the currents between them.

Arthur shuddered. Looked back to the house. He was quiet a moment more. But then a breath. And another. Building courage to face the field. “I’ll never be able to come back if I leave now.”

He turned his hand over and held Merlin’s, bringing it up to his lips and ghosting Merlin’s knuckles with a kiss. “I would be lost without you. Have I told you that lately?”

Merlin smiled, “No, I fear you’ve neglected me terribly.” he sighed for dramatic effect.

Arthur arched a brow, “Oh have I? Well, remind me to remedy that when we get home later.” and he straightened one of Merlin’s fingers, pulled it into his mouth, and swirled that brilliant tongue around the tip. 

Merlin groaned, leaning closer, pure bliss…and snatched his hand back, eyes wide as he stared at the mansion, “Arthur! What if they’re watching!”

Arthur flashed him a crooked grin, “How scandalous! Of course they’re watching. They’ve been trying to discretely peep through the window for the last three minutes.”

Merlin glared at his lover, “If your father murders me at dinner, it’s all your fault.”

Arthur laughed, a full, amazing laugh that melted Merlin’s ire. They got out of the car, Arthur tensing, but determined beside him. He twined their fingers together and made their way to the massive cherry door. Arthur’s grip became firmer the closer they got, but never painful. 

And that was one of a thousand differences between Val and Arthur. Arthur never used his strength against Merlin, not even in play. Though neither did he treat him like glass. They were partners, in every sense of the word. The last several months had been a roller coaster for them both. 

He wouldn’t have missed the ride for anything.

The door was opening now, and a beautiful woman with long raven hair and shining eyes stepped out. Even Merlin could see how she held herself back, instead of racing forward, she simply opened her arms and waited for Arthur to fall into them. She wrapped her arms around him and peered at Merlin over her brother’s shoulder, tears staining her cheeks. She held out a hand and pulled Merlin into their little circle. Accepted. Just like that. Arthur gasped, a wet sound and Merlin stepped back, allowing the siblings their moment. 

It was then he noticed the older gentleman standing in the open doorway. He nodded at Merlin, who inclined his head in acknowledgement. Maybe he wasn’t destined to be murdered by an overprotective father after all.

Morgana pulled only slightly away, while Arthur wiped his eyes. His whole bearing standing at attention as he spied his father. Merlin held his breath and placed his hand on the small of Arthur’s back.

Uther Pendragon opened his mouth, closed it. Stood up straighter, lips tremulous, he held out his arms and said, “Welcome home son.”

End

**Author's Note:**

> Ten gold stars and cookie if you catch The Princess Bride reference. :)


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